


Loving Beth Greene

by book_lover89



Series: Moonshine and Melodies [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Not a Happy Story, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/book_lover89/pseuds/book_lover89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern Bethlyl AU one shot inspired by the song He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones. NOT A HAPPY STORY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving Beth Greene

**Author's Note:**

> Okay be warned!!! This is an awfully, terribly, sad, AU modern Bethyl one shot. IT IS NOT A HAPPY STORY!! I can't stay that enough. There is death. It was inspired by the song He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones. I have no idea why I wrote something so damn sad but I had to get it out. If you're not sure about this, listen to the song first and then decide if you want to read. (P.S. This is not edited. At all. Didn't even reread it) please let me know what you think.

Rick pounded on the door to the apartment for the tenth time. He was trying to get Daryl up and out of bed to let him in, no matter how futile it was. When there was no answer, Rick sighed and pulled the spare key from his pocket. He let himself in and slammed the door behind him. There was no reaction, no reprimands for barging in. There was only silence to greet him. Looking around the tiny apartment Rick realized how pathetic his hope had been that Daryl had gotten out of bed to clean up since he'd last been here. Hell, Rick would have been happy if it wasn't any worse than it was before, but it was. The place was trashed. Beer and whiskey bottles were scattered across the couch, tables, and floors. Take out containers still half filled with food were everywhere. Clothes and trash were strewn about. Rick couldn't be sure, but there were a few spots on the carpet that suspiciously looked like piss stains. The air smelled of stale beer and vomit. Rick decided not to even look in the kitchen. Instead he made his way towards the one bedroom, hoping like hell he wouldn't find Daryl dead in a pool of his vomit. 

But no, Daryl wasn't dead. Rick found him passed out on the bed on his stomach, snoring loudly. In one hand he clutched a bottle of cheap whiskey and in the other was a picture, crumpled in his fist. Rick didn't have to look to know it was the one he'd hadn't let go of since the accident. Rick was sick of it. Was sick of seeing his best friend, his brother, in this state. This sad, pathetic shell of a man he was becoming. Daryl was constantly drunk. Apparently having his stomach pumped once already did nothing to deter his destructive behavior. Rick was done babying him. He knew Daryl was hurting. Knew he was broken down and in pain so intense Rick could barely fathom it. But enough was enough. If he didn't get his shit together he was going to kill himself. Rick sometimes wondered if that was point of everything Daryl was doing. He hoped he was wrong. 

Shaking off his morbid thoughts Rick decided to try and wake him. He kicked at the leg hanging off the bed, saying, "get up Daryl!" No response. Rick kicked him a few more times and even shook him. Still nothing. Barely even a stutter in his snoring. Frustrated, Rick headed into the kitchen, trying not to gag on the smell of rotting food and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. Ignoring the kitchen sink he went back down the hallway and headed into the bathroom. He filled the cup in the sink and grabbed two painkillers before heading back in the bedroom. 

Daryl was still asleep but now restless and muttering incoherently. Not wasting a moment, Rick took the cup of water and threw it directly into Daryl's face. Rick stepped and watched as Daryl yelled out and the bolted upright, swaying slightly, indicating that he was still drunk. Daryl gasped and sputtered, disoriented at the abrupt wake up. If it was any other situation Rick knew he would have laughed but there was nothing funny about his broken friend. 

It took a moment but Daryl's bloodshot eyes finally landed on Rick holding an empty cup. The confusion left his eyes and he leveled a glare at Rick. If Rick didn't know him so well he might have stepped back and withered under the intensity of it. But he knew him. And he knew what it was; a defense mechanism. 

"What the fuck you doing here Rick?" Daryl snarled at him. "Told you last time I don't want you here." His words were slightly slurred but he was looking a little more sober. 

"And I told you I don't care. Shouldn't have given me a key." Rick retorted back. 

"Fuck off." Daryl growled but it lacked the venom of his last words as he clutched his head in pain that Rick could only assume was from massive hangover. Water was dripping from his hair into his face but Daryl either didn't notice or didn't care. 

Ignoring him Rick went back to the bathroom to refill the cup. He handed Daryl the water and the pills which he took without a thank you but Rick had expected that. 

"I should let you suffer and feel all the damage you're doing to yourself." 

"I don't need your fucking babying Rick. Get the fuck out." The venom was back in his tone but Rick was not giving up. 

"Well someone has to since you're not taking care of yourself. You smell like a damn bar, your place is trashed and no one has seen you at all. You didn't even show up to the funeral Daryl." Rick told him, following as Daryl got up on unsteady feet, still clutching the whiskey bottle and headed towards the living room, trying to discreetly tuck the photo in his pocket. However, Rick almost bumped right into his back as he froze at Rick's last sentence. Rick held his breath for a moment wondering if he pushed too far. He almost didn't care if he did. That was the point. He'd take a hit or two to the face if it meant that something would give. He didn't expect Daryl to be okay. He didn't expect him to even want to be okay. What Rick expected was that Daryl lived. That he at least try to live. Which was the exact opposite of what he was doing now. However, the worry was for nothing as all Daryl did was ground a "don't" between clenched teeth and dig around the coffee table looking looking for something. He stopped when he found a pack of smokes. This was new.

"Thought you quit last year?" Rick inquired. 

Once again Daryl froze again for a moment before lighting the cigarette and dropping onto the disgusting couch. 

"Quit for her. Don't fucking matter now." He muttered. He was hunched in on himself and desperately smoking his cigarette as if it was the air needed. Drag after drag in quick succession. Once it was gone he ground out it on the coffee table. Rick struggled for words. He had to get through to him somehow. However, he got distracted when Daryl opened up the bottle to drink. He quickly snatched it out of his hands, ignoring Daryl's protest. 

"You're still drunk from last night and you want to drink more? Enough is enough Daryl. You can't keep fucking doing this. I won't let you do this." Rick told him, completely frustrated. He doesn't know how to help. He doesn't know what he needs. Rick has never been in this position.  
"I already fucking told you I don't need your help Rick." Daryl spat his name like it was a dirty word. He tried to grab for the bottle but easily missed, still not completely steady. 

"Do you really think this is what she would want for you?" Rick asks him softly, as if the tone of his voice could keep Daryl from reacting harshly. 

"Don't!" He once again ground out harshly, trying to stop from continuing. But Rick didn't. Being nice hasn't helped. 

"What would she think if she was here right now? You think she would want you killing yourself. You trying to follow her Daryl? That what you want?" 

Daryl jumped to his feet in a rage and grabbed onto the front of Rick's shirt. 

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me about her! You don't know shit. You don't know a damn thing. She ain't fucking here and she ain't ever gonna be again!" Daryl shouted in Rick's face trembling with rage, his fist still locked tight on his shirt. 

"I know you're hurting Daryl. I know you're not even trying to live." 

Daryl let go of his shirt and pushed back before taking a step back to pace in front of the couch. "Don't act like you fucking know how I feel! You still have Lori. You still have your good life with your wife and kids. I got nothing." Daryl's voice broke at end and Rick could see the tears in his eyes. And maybe his were burning a little too. Rick felt his heart break for a friend. 

"You're right. I don't know how you feel. But I do know there are people who need you. I need you. Hershel needs you. And I know, without a doubt, that Beth wouldn't want you doing this to yourself." 

"Don't say her name. Please don't say her name." Daryl pleaded brokenly. Her name is what finally broke him. He dropped to the floor sobbing. Rick had never seen his friend cry and here he was crumpled on the ground in a broken heap, tears pouring down his face. Rick dropped down next to him and pulled him into his side, Daryl not once fighting him. 

In between sobs, Daryl would choked out, "I'm going to love her until I die Rick. Never anyone else." 

Rick sat on the floor comforting him until Daryl fell asleep. 

~

Rick wishes he could say things got better right away but that would be a lie. It took months before Daryl would sober up and only after Hershel talked some sense into him. Rick would never know what Hershel said to straighten him up but he was forever grateful. Somethings changed permanently after that. He never moved out of the apartment he shared with Beth before the car accident. While it was clean now it was as if she was still there. Her clothes were still the closet and her photos still on the wall. Daryl didn't move a thing of hers out of the home nor did put them boxes. He left them right where she had left them. Rick found love letter from Beth on the nightstand wrinkled and creased from being read over and over. Daryl had carried that picture of the two of them in his pocket everyday. 

He never moved on. Never dated. Carol tried and Lori tried to set him up on a couple dates but after Daryl didn't show and didn't talk to either one of them for a month, no one ever tried again. 

Rick was also pretty sure Daryl was also a little crazy. He would catch him muttering sometimes, talking as if Beth was still beside him. He never mentioned it and Rick never brought it up. Daryl was still withdrawn most of the time but made some efforts for his friends. Still he rarely and never laughed. 

Life went on. They got old. Rick's kids grew up and got married. They had kids of their own. Hershel passed peacefully of old age. 

Rick remembers the last time he saw Daryl. They were sitting in Daryl's apartment talking about life and for the first time since that fateful day all those years ago Daryl seemed like his old self. Rick saw him smile for the first time in countless years. He even heard him laugh. Rick didn't even question it, excited to have his old friend back even if for a moment. It was later that day when he stopped by to grab his hat he left sitting on Daryl's coffee table that he realized he should have known. When he let himself in with same key just like before he once again found Daryl on his bed. This time on his back looking like he was sleeping peacefully, with again the ghost of a smile on his face. Rick knew he was gone. And Rick knew Daryl Dixon stopped loving Beth Greene today.


End file.
